


Rhapsody

by ever_enthralled



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I Made Myself Cry, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Manga Spoilers, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_enthralled/pseuds/ever_enthralled
Summary: i love reiner braun more than i understand, and this was just me trying to put it into words. still didn't quite capture all my feelings tbh but i tried. also this is technically part of my kinktober as 'body worship'. thanks~
Relationships: Reiner Braun/Reader
Comments: 27
Kudos: 499





	Rhapsody

**Author's Note:**

> i love reiner braun more than i understand, and this was just me trying to put it into words. still didn't quite capture all my feelings tbh but i tried. also this is technically part of my kinktober as 'body worship'. thanks~

There’s no answer when you knock on the wooden door. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, waiting impatiently as the light from a candle flickers through the crack underneath. Is he already asleep? He really should blow that out. 

You try again, knuckles rapping against the old oak. This time you _do_ get a response, but it’s not the one you want. 

_“Go away."_

Your heart sinks into your stomach. His voice is thin and hoarse. Broken.

You swallow, raising your hand to knock again but figure calling out is the better option. “Vice Captain—”

“I said fuck off!”

Flinching at the harshness of his tone, you take a step back. You should turn around, leave him to his own devices except… Those devices are what worry you. Too many times you’ve come to his room to find untouched plates of food, splinters in the walls from where his fists have made contact, his rifle loaded and propped against his bed frame. You hate it. You hate what’s happened to him. 

So, you can’t just leave. Instead, you grab the door knob then take a deep breath to brace yourself, and twist. 

You are not at all surprised at the scene you’re met with. The room is dark save for the single lit candle, its gleaming flame casting odd shadows on the walls. The bed is stripped of its sheets, all in a pile on the ground. The nightstand is home to a full plate of food, the dinner that was made in the mess hall and served to the soldiers. Next to it is a pocket knife, blade lodged into the table, and you can only imagine how many other marks dot the wood around it. 

Reiner is sitting on the ground, legs outstretched in front of him, head resting against the wall. He stares at you, amber eyes glassy and hollow, and even in the dark, you can see the circles beneath them. 

“Told you to go away,” he rasps.

There’s a puddle just beside him, the smell of alcohol permeating the air as the liquid shimmers in the dim light, slowly soaking into one of Reiner’s pant legs. 

“Yeah, sorry,” you mutter, glancing around for what you assume to be an empty bottle until you turn fully to see a splatter on the opposite wall, tiny shards of brown glass on the floor below. You sigh, making a mental list of everything you need to take care of in here, starting with the long-cold food. 

You pace over to the nightstand and grab the plate, then turn and pick up the dirty sheets from the ground, tucking them under your arm. 

“What are you—”

“Cleaning,” you cut Reiner off, looking at him with a wrinkled nose. “It smells weird in here.”

He snorts quietly, mumbles a humorless, “Probably me.”

“Then shower,” you chide, making your way to the door and nodding to the mess of glass on the floor. “I’m gonna put these away and get a broom to clean that up.

Reiner shrugs his shoulders, looks down at his hands in his lap, but stays silent. 

The food is disposed of, and the sheets get thrown into the mass laundry bin all the officers use. You’re able to find a clean set to bring back, as well as a broom, hoping to see that Reiner has taken your advice and gotten up to bathe, but no, when you step into the room again, he’s just as you left him. 

You don’t say anything as you tidy up. He probably wouldn’t hear you anyway. Since he got back from the war with the allied forces, he hasn’t been the same. 

No, you think. It was before that. Ever since he got back from Paradis. He left for the island as a young boy, determined to prove himself, and came back… Fractured. From what you’ve gathered over the years, Reiner underwent mass amounts of psychological evaluations and rehabilitation upon his return to Marley due to whatever he was subjected to over there. You didn’t see him for months, that excitement you originally felt at being with him after so long dwindling until all that was left was worry. 

Then, you were reunited, and you found that the boy who was once one of your best friends no longer existed. He’s hardened now, quiet and strange. More than anything, he’s haunted. The few times he comes out of his room—usually for military business—he walks the halls of the base alone, sometimes muttering to himself or shaking his hands as if trying to rid them of substance. It’s unsettling, the way his light, bloodshot eyes dart around, always searching, always taking in his surroundings. You wonder what’s going on in his head, if you could even handle it. 

You make the bed first, smoothing out the sheets and fluffing the single pillow, then pull the knife from the nightstand, closing it and placing it back down. Glass crunches under your boots as you sweep it up, and you try to gather as much as you can in the dustpan, but it’s hard to tell in the low lighting. The wall is also somewhat of a lost cause, no telling exactly how long the alcohol has been bleeding into it. Still, you do your best to scrub it down with a wet rag, hopefully lifting some of the stain before calling it quits.

You find Reiner watching you when you turn. Or, it looks like he’s watching you. He may just be staring straight through you, though his gaze does lift when you speak to him.

“Alright, your turn.” You step over to him and hold out a hand that he regards apathetically. “Come on, get up.”

He seems to think for a moment, probably contemplating whether or not arguing is even worth it. He’s well aware of just how stubborn you are, though, and makes the easier choice by taking your hand. You brace your legs and pull, helping Reiner to his feet, then tossing the rag you just got finished using onto the puddle of liquor. You’ll finish cleaning it later, but for now, you lead the blond one room over to the officer bathroom, making sure to lock the door once both of you are inside. It’s nicer than any other bathrooms in the base, but even then, it isn’t fancy by any means—sink, toilet, then an archway that leads to the tub and stone-tiled shower. 

You let go of Reiner’s hand and turn to a small closet to retrieve a towel and fresh soap, hear footsteps then the water turn on, and when you peek around the corner, you see him standing under the spray still fully clothed. 

Tears well in your eyes, blurring your vision. You set your jaw and look down, feeling your heart beat heavily in your chest. You think it might be breaking, so overwhelmed with both adoration and sorrow for your old friend that it has no choice but to shatter. 

Then, he says your name. You barely hear it over the running water, slowly walk over to see what he needs, but all he does is shut his eyes, let his head hang back, and reach for you with trembling fingers. 

You make quick work of your boots, kicking them to the side, then step into the stall in front of him. Immediately, your uniform gets plastered to your skin, the material heavy as it soaks through. Reiner steps closer, and your breath hitches for a moment only to be released when his head lolls forward to rest on top of yours. 

You stand still, letting the spray cascade over your back as Reiner leans into you. Fisting your hands in the now sopping undershirt you found him in, you remember when he first got back from the island, when he was broad with muscle, strong and sturdy—physically, at least. Now, he’s taller and much thinner. His handsome face is gaunt and pale. You can see a few of his ribs as well as the ‘V’ of his hips through his shirt. Some of the younger girls still titter and blush when they see him, and for good reason—the Vice Captain is still attractive—he’s just a much different man than he was before, both in appearance and personality. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into your hair.

“For what?”

“For always making you clean up after me. For—” his body rises and falls with a heavy sigh. “For _being_ the mess you have to clean up.”

You smile sadly, not that he can see it, and uncurl your fingers to lay both your hands flat on the planes of his abdomen. “I don’t have to clean you up,” you tell him. “I _want_ to. I wanna help you, Rei.”

“Think I might be past helping.”

Those tears are burning your eyes again, and you swallow thickly, clear your throat, then manage a shaky, “I don’t believe that.”

Reiner straightens in order to look down at you. His own eyes are watering, red from fatigue, lashes heavy with droplets, and it looks like he has something to say, but you reach down to retrieve a bottle of shampoo and simply tell him, “Take your shirt off and bend forward so I can wash your hair.”

He does as told, taking his time to peel the cotton undershirt from his torso and tossing it to the corner of the shower. Instead of bending, however, he lowers himself to his knees and, to your surprise, presses his forehead against your stomach. It’s extremely intimate, makes your hands shake as you pour soap into them, but you settle down when you begin massaging it into his hair. You make sure to scratch at his scalp, comb your fingers up the back of his head, from one hairline to the other. At some point, you notice his shoulders begin to shake, but you stay silent as you continue to lather and eventually rinse it all out. 

When you’re done and Reiner gets back to his feet, you see that his eyelids are ringed in pink and slightly swollen. Finally, you let a few of your own tears spill over and roll down your cheeks, sniffling as you turn your back and brace yourself on the shower wall.

He used to be one of your best friends. You trained together. You wanted to be a Warrior, to go to the island with him. That was the plan.

But, you weren’t strong enough. He went without you. He lost Marcel and Annie and Bertholdt. Would he have lost you too? Or, would you have been able to help? Could you have stopped him from fracturing?

Facing the stone rather than Reiner, you unbutton your uniform shirt and tug it off, then pull the undershirt over your head. Both are discarded in a corner, and you quickly wash your own hair, allowing the water to rinse both soap and salt from your face. 

Large hands are on your hips, two fingers digging into the hollows while thumbs press into the dimples on your back. Reiner is holding you like he thinks you might run, but you won’t. You never will. Not from him. 

“You’ve always been here,” he states in something close to wonder. “Why?”

You’re not sure what he’s asking, so you press, “What do you mean?”

“You never left the military. Even after I went to… You stayed. And, when I got back, it was like you had been—”

“Waiting for you?” You finish for him, finally turning to face him again just in time to see his cheeks redden. 

He nods. “Since I got back, you’ve been keeping an eye on me, taking care of me. I don’t… I don’t understand.”

Looking away, you feel your own face begin to heat and nibble on your lip for a second before you tell him vaguely, “I just care about you is all. You were one of my best friends growing up.”

“And, now what am I?”

There are many answers to that—broken, someone in need of help. The easiest response, though, is the professional one. “Now, you’re my commanding officer.” Odd considering you’re standing half-naked in a shower with him. “I watch your back, you watch mine, right?”

He blinks down at you, silent for just a little too long before shaking his head and muttering a self deprecating, “Pretty weak commanding officer…”

“Hey,” you press a hand to his chest, feel his heart ricochet against his sternum. “You’re coping. You’ve been through a lot. But, you are _not_ weak.”

The corner of Reiner’s mouth twitches upward, and he glances down to your hand then follows the length of your arm to the rest of your body. His eyes are glazed, unfocused, and he moves closer until his torso is flush with yours. 

You inhale sharply, and Reiner nods, breathing out a low, “Yes, I am,” before taking your face in his hands. His lips are millimeters away from yours, and you stare up at him with wide eyes that sting from the dripping water, unblinking and taking in everything about him—the cut of his cheekbones, the scar that bisects his eyebrow, the way his hair is stuck to his forehead. He’s so handsome, and so sad, and when he starts muttering, his words come out quickly and just above a whisper, stream of consciousness, desperate pleas—“I know it, and you know it, just let me—let me be weak. Let me forget. Can you help me forget? Please, help me—”

“Shh, Reiner…” You reach up to push wet hair from his face then let your fingers trail down further over his brow, making him close his eyes as you barely ghost over his lids, his nose, his lips. “I’m here, okay? I’ll help you, of course I’ll help you.”

His kiss is harsh at first, chapped lips pressed against yours as he sucks in a breath through his nose, and then he begins to relax into it. His shoulders slump, and he backs off just enough to give you a chance to shift your weight. You are soft, moving your mouth slowly against his as you stroke the back of his neck with your fingertips. Reiner’s hands are on your hips again, pulling you closer to him then spanning over the small of your back. 

The taste of liquor is still faint on his tongue as he pushes it into your mouth, and you can’t help but whimper, nails digging into his heated skin because no matter how far he’s spiraled since coming home, and no matter how sad you’ve been for him, there’s still a part of you that’s wanted this—a part of you that aches and _craves_. You never fully outgrew that childhood infatuation, but you’ve gotten used to the uncomfortable fluttering in your stomach that takes place every time you see your superior, have learned to ignore your quickening pulse and flushing cheeks and undeniable need for his approval despite the fact that he can barely think straight these days. 

You’ve always considered it a crush—hopeless affection that you’d be able to put away, _compartmentalize_ —but now that you’re standing here, hot water pouring over both of you, between your faces as he kisses you with enough desperation to _hurt_ , you finally come to terms with the fact that your feelings aren’t nearly as simple or juvenile as you originally believed. As your hands slide from his neck to his shoulders, Reiner’s grip around your waist grows even tighter, making it impossible to move or breathe or think. Steam from the shower rises, the air thick and humid from it. You want out, need to get somewhere you can actually see and appreciate the man against you, need to hear every little grunt and groan and plead. You need to give him what he deserves. 

You do your best to pull back, try to take a breath and speak, but Reiner simply follows, craning his neck and going as far as sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. Your amused chuckle turns to a quiet whine when he bites down, and you push gently on his hunched shoulders until he releases you.

“Wha—what?” He’s panting, bloodshot eyes wide and foggy with desire, maybe a little madness. 

Humming, you run a hand down his face then tell him, “Let’s finish bathing and then we’ll get back to it, yeah?”

Reiner stares for a second too long before nodding, and both of you peel the remainder of your soaking clothes off, two pairs of pants as well as underwear. Fully nude, you’re able to enjoy the water much more, turning toward the spray again and soaping up a rag to drag over your skin. Reiner waits patiently behind you, standing close enough for you to sense without actually touching you, and once you finish, he makes quick work of himself.

Your heart thuds heavily when he reaches in front of you to turn the water off, his body pressing into yours for a moment before he steps away from you and out of the shower. Cheeks hot, you watch as he grabs two towels from the closet, wrapping one around his trim waist then holding the other out to you. His eyes remain locked on you as you dry your hair as best you can, getting rid of some of the droplets on your shoulders and chest before securing the towel around your body. 

Without a word, the two of you leave the bathroom and slip back into Reiner’s quarters which, you are pleased to find, already smell much less like alcohol and old food. For a moment, you’re at a loss, unsure as you stand on shaky legs until you feel Reiner against you once more, his hands running up your sides and finding the makeshift knot of your towel just over your sternum. You allow him to pull the material loose, letting it fall to the floor, then turn to face him. On your tiptoes, you press your lips to his and lock your arms around his neck. He makes that same noise as before, the deep inhale that seems almost startled, but he can’t be too caught off guard because he immediately begins walking you back toward his bed. 

When your knees hit the edge, you don’t fight your fall, just land on the mattress and greedily run your hands over Reiner’s torso as he hovers over you. He lost his own towel somewhere between the door and the bed, giving you a full view of him that makes you suck in air through your teeth. Even thin, he’s wiry with muscle, toned all over with smatterings of light blond hair on his chest and below his navel. His hips jut out at an angle, and he shivers when you rake your fingernails over one of the bones. 

“Fuck, that’s…” He hisses when you lightly scratch him again, and when you glance downward you can see his cock hardening between his legs as he finishes, _“S-sensitive.”_

Your previously blank mind is suddenly full of thoughts firing too rapidly to keep track of, but one of them is just clear enough to catch: _make him feel good_. 

Digging your heels into the mattress, you scoot further up, and, unsurprisingly, Reiner follows as you go, gaze fixed on your every movement until you pause only to hook a leg over his calf and plant a hand on his shoulder to push him to the side. 

Reiner grunts as he finds himself on his back, blinks up at you a couple times as you get situated in his lap. He shows the smallest, incredulous smile that sets your heart ablaze, then runs his calloused hands up your thighs, murmuring, "Soft,” more to himself than to you as he takes in the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. 

Leaning over, you kiss him while rolling your hips. Reiner’s cock twitches in interest, bobbing against your leg, and he groans low in his throat when you do it again. You take your time, soft pecks turning to long, languid kisses that leave both of you breathless as you nip and suck and taste. Fingers trail up your side then over, and you moan when Reiner thumbs over one of your nipples. You buck in his lap, rubbing over him, and your exchange very quickly turns hungry. 

When you break away, you can feel that your lips are hot and swollen, find that Reiner’s are the same. He’s already flushed from his chest to his cheeks, feverish and frenzied as he reaches for you, but instead of obliging him, you place a chaste kiss just on the curve of his jaw. 

Hands braced on his chest, you feel the way it rises suddenly at the action only to fall again in a shuddering exhale. You move a few centimeters and brush over the skin just beneath his ear, then the side of his neck. Grazing your teeth over his pulse point, you pause to suck gently while enjoying the way Reiner squirms beneath you. He’s gripping your hips again, blunt nails carving crescent marks into your flesh as you slowly make your way down. 

Another mark is left on his collarbone, dark red blooming in the wake of your tongue and teeth. As you slide down his frame, you can feel Reiner as he begins to come undone. Every kiss makes his stomach spasm. Every gentle bite causes his back to arch. And, when you press your mouth to his pectoral, just over his heart, he actually gasps. 

“You—you’re killing me,” he groans. When you glance up through your lashes, you see that his brow is high, eyes closed, mouth hanging open. 

Are you helping him? Has he forgotten?

You continue your descent, littering his chest and abdominals with kisses and bruises. You take special care to suck a mark just inside the curve of his hip. It makes him jolt, a broken, _“A-ah,”_ tearing from his throat. For a moment, you think you may have hurt him, but judging by the way he not-so-subtly cants his hips upward, you see that’s not the case. He’s getting restless, muscles coiled like springs just ready to be released.

Situating yourself between his legs, you wrap a hand around the base of Reiner’s cock, your stomach flipping at the noise it elicits from him. He’s warm and thick, your fingers unable to meet as they curl around his girth. His tip is flushed, and as you begin to stroke him, translucent pre leaks from his urethra in small droplets. Barely thinking, you immediately press your tongue against it, are met with a slightly salty taste and the scent of the soap you both used in the shower.

Reiner fists the sheets beneath him, presses his head further into his pillow and grunts out a strangled, _“Fucking hell.”_

Working slowly, you take a little more of his length each time you bob your head, wetting him with spit and running your tongue back and forth on the underside of his cock. He’s breathing heavily, hips stuttering as if he’s warring between thrusting into your mouth and staying still. He isn’t as relaxed as you’d like him to be, so once you feel like you’ve warmed your jaw and throat up enough, you raise up off of him and say, “Whatever you want to do, just do it. I’m ready. I’ll be okay.”

Reiner pants, opens his eyes to look at you, and he’s so handsome—ruddy cheeked and dazed—it makes your chest ache. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You kiss his hip, the bone that isn’t bruised from your previous onslaught of affection. “Use me how you want.”

He’s staring again, pupils huge in the dim lighting. You wonder how much of you he can actually see, how much he’s taking in. All of it? None of it? It doesn’t really matter. This isn’t for you.

When he doesn’t say anything, you return to the task at hand, swallowing as much of him as you can before having to back off to breathe. You suck at his head, moan quietly when more of that fluid meets your tongue, then take him deeper. A hand settles on the back of your head, and you hum, stilling your movements and inviting Reiner to set his own pace. He’s gentle at first, cautious as he thrusts up into your mouth, but the more you drool and slurp around him, the more frantic he gets. You gag when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, but he either doesn’t hear or trusts that you can handle him because he keeps fucking into you. Blinking back the tears forming in the corners of your eyes, you drop your jaw further, relax and allow Reiner to slip deeper into the sleeve of your throat.

He swears, fingers tightening in your hair as he holds you still for a few seconds to revel in the way your muscles squeeze him while you attempt to swallow.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—” He pulls you off of him and shudders as you gasp for air.

You sniff, wipe unshed tears, then cough, “I thought that was the point.”

Reiner is panting but grinning when he shakes his head. He sits up slowly, reaches for you to pull you back into his lap, and you happily oblige, wrapping your legs around his waist. His kiss is hot and labored, his fingers harsh in your hair, and you can feel how slick his cock still is from your saliva as he grinds against you. 

There’s a familiar heat in your gut, a pulsing arousal that only intensifies when Reiner brings his free hand between the two of you and runs a finger along your slit.

Your head flies back, a surprised, _“Oh, god,”_ falling from your lips as he presses gently against your clit. You buck into his hand, and Reiner uses the fistful of hair in his hand to guide you back to his face, engaging you in another desperate kiss. Your legs tremble around him, slick dripping from you with every perfect circle he makes with the pad of his finger. 

Chest to chest, you breathe each other in. You cry into his mouth when he stretches you, slipping a finger into your pussy all the way to his last knuckle while you shake apart on top of him. The hand on your head relents, traveling to your neck then your back until he’s using it to press you further down on him. 

“Another,” you whisper. “Another finger, come on.”

He doesn’t argue, just slips his ring alongside his middle. The heel of his palm grinds against your clit as you roll into him, and when he bends his fingers just the right way, you feel them brush against that sensitive spot inside of you. You whimper, nearly losing yourself in the sensation until you remember why you’re here. 

With a drunken sigh, you reach down and take hold of Reiner’s wrist to pull him from you. He makes a noise of displeasure, but whatever protest he has quickly dies when you reach for his cock and line it up with your entrance. 

“Are you sure that was enough? I can keep—”

You silence him with yet another bruising kiss and slowly being to sink down on his length. The sensation pulls wrecked moans from the both of you, and _oh fuck_ , you can feel every part of him, every vein and ridge, he’s huge and scorching, filling you so perfectly, and—

“Holy—Fuck, you feel—” Pulling away, you bite your bottom lip and stare at Reiner with bleary eyes. You can’t focus on anything other than the way he feels inside of you, pressed so close, your legs wrapped around him as he gently bounces you in his lap, fuck, fuck, _“—so good…”_

You move with him, fluid and loose, melting into one another. You’re both damp, skin sliding easily as you huff and moan and cry because you’ve never felt so full, so whole, and you hope—you _wish_ —that Reiner felt the same way, but this isn’t the same for him. This is release. This is bestial. This is necessary. And, that’s okay. 

Thrusting up into you, Reiner presses his face to your chest, catches one of your nipples between his teeth and sucks until you call his name in a breathy whine. He flicks the bud with his tongue once, twice, then moves to the other while snaking his hand down to where you’re connected. At first, you only feel his fingers brush where you stretch around him, tracing over you like he’s trying to read you, memorize you, but then he moves up to your clit, and you stop paying attention to anything other than that.

Letting your head fall to his shoulder, you huff into the side of Reiner’s neck, biting at sensitive flesh and sucking harshly as he sets up a slightly quicker pace. It isn’t neat by any means—frantic, a little sloppy, but so, so good. You clench around his cock, smile at the way he gasps your name like a prayer. 

Lewd, wet noises echo through the room, drowned out only by the slapping of skin on skin and shaky moans. You won’t last long. Neither of you will. Warmth is building between your hips, threading up your feet and legs and making your entire body tingle with want. 

“Reiner, Rei—I’m—”

“So’m I.” 

Your dance turns to instinct, mindless movements to alleviate the heat, the pressure, the pain, until you choke on your breath and let go. You pulse around Reiner, bringing him closer and closer to his edge until you’re finally milking his orgasm from him. The hand between your legs twitches over your clit, pulling a helpless squeal from you, while his other clamps down on your thigh with a bruising force. 

Eyes rolling, he rocks into you, shallow movements that press deep inside until all there is left to do is shiver. You rest your weight against Reiner’s chest, screw your eyes shut as you try to regain your senses with no real success. The only sound in the room is the two of you catching your breath as well as your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. 

After a few minutes, you’re able to unwrap your legs from him, hissing as you stretch out aching muscles. Reiner moves with you, supporting you as he gets to his knees only to lay you on your back, never slipping from you as he does. Forearms braced on either side of your head, he leans down, captures your lips in one more kiss that feels much different from the previous. Slower, softer, with care for you but not for the rest of the world.

Hot tears trickle from your eyes as you’re flooded with both emotions and endorphins, and you hold Reiner’s face in your hands while you come down from your high. 

It’s like that for some time until you both begin to feel drowsy. You pull away, words quiet and slightly slurred when you tell him, “Should rinse off again.”

“Mm, okay.”

You get up, making various noises of displeasure and disappointment when Reiner finally pulls out of you. His eyes are only half open when he looks into the hallway to make sure no one else is around, then takes your hand and walks one door over to the bathroom all of this started in. 

Oddly enough, your wet clothes are gone from the tub, small puddles cleaned up. You can’t help but wonder who came in behind the two of you, who may have heard… 

This shower is much quicker, just enough to get rid of the sweat and mess between your legs. You can’t help but bite your lip and blush when you catch sight of all the marks you left on Reiner. His body is a battlefield of tiny bruises, though the one on his neck is by far the darkest. 

“Sorry about that,” you snicker, turning your face to the side before he can catch your bashful smile. 

“Hm?” You gesture vaguely to his neck, and he reaches up to rub over the mark. “Oh. Don’t be. It felt good.”

“Not gonna feel good when Zeke and Porco are giving you shit about it tomorrow.”

He shrugs his shoulders, motions to the knob for you to turn the shower off, and you do. 

“Doesn’t really bother me. I’m used to them at this point.”

You hum, a little irritated at the thought of the other two men making his life any harder than it already is, but that’s a problem for another day. For now…

“I should get back to the barracks. Early morning—”

“No. Stay with me tonight.” The sincerity in his voice nearly destroys you, and you pause in towel-drying your hair, eyebrows high as you contemplate. 

“I really shouldn’t. If anyone sees me leave in the morning…”

“And, if I say it’s an order?" 

Reiner straightens his back subconsciously, chest puffing in a way you haven’t seen in quite some time. It makes you laugh, that fluttery sensation settling in your stomach once again. 

"I’d say that’s an abuse of power.” He pouts, deflating a bit, but you take two steps to close distance and raise to your tip-toes to peck him on the lips. “But, if that’s what you want, _Vice Captain_. I guess I’ll risk it.”

Rolling his eyes at your dramatics, Reiner shows a small smirk. “You watch my back, I watch yours, remember?" 

Back in his room, you’re offered one of his shirts to sleep in as well as a pair of boxers that you wave off. You crawl into bed, still not sure exactly what it is Reiner needs from you right now, but once he throws a heavy arm over your waist, it’s easy to relax and let him pull you closer. 

"Oh, wait.” You wriggle forward, lick your thumb and forefinger, then use them to snuff out the candle. “You’re gonna burn the base down one of these days.”

Reiner snorts, “Probably for the better,” then tugs you back against his chest. He yawns, rubs his stubbled cheek against your back, just between your shoulder blades, then speaks again, voice just above a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Of course—”

“I mean it.” The kiss placed on the back of your neck makes you shudder. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You sigh, grab his hand resting over your stomach and squeeze. “Go to sleep, Reiner. I’ll be here in the morning.”

And, you are. When you wake up close to dawn, you’re still in Reiner’s bed, though he is not. In his place on the pillow next to you is a small blue flower, one you recognize as a forget-me-not. 

Still sleepy, you pinch one of the petals between your fingers, admire its beauty and think, _I never will_.


End file.
